


Luceo non uro

by krystian



Series: sub iove [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:20:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21672118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krystian/pseuds/krystian
Summary: When your loved one wants to spend time with you, you don't decline.Especially when they go through the trouble of getting sweets for you.
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei
Series: sub iove [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1559362
Comments: 3
Kudos: 32





	Luceo non uro

**Author's Note:**

> i fell in love with the sun  
> and she blinded me  
> but oh  
> how it was worth it
> 
> \---
> 
> im having feelings, help
> 
> Title means 'I shine, not burn'

**Hvor mange stjerner finnes det i verdensrommet?**

“Catch.”

Matsukawa doesn’t expect the small, golden ball that hits him right between the eyes – the warning came way too late for it to be of any use. Scowling, he plucks the offending thing from his lap where it had fallen into and hears the tinfoil crinkle beneath his fingers. He turns it over and the label _Ferrero Rocher_ is clearly visible. “What’s that for?” He asks dumbly.

“Eating purposes, duh,” Hanamaki, his flatmate and coincidentally also his boyfriend, replies dryly. “Can’t just let you live off of coffee, after all. What kind of darling would I be?”

He rolls the little ball between his fingers, feeling the surface of it and deciding what to actually do with it. “So you tryna feed me chocolate?”

Hanamaki shrugs nonchalantly and turns his attention back to his phone. He was probably on twitter, starting another feud or something. Aggravating the masses was so easy nowadays. “Just thought you might appreciate it. I’d be wounded if you didn’t. After all, I spent so long harvesting the cocoa beans and the nuts and whatever goes into there. Probably chemicals.”

Chuckling, he gets up and puts it in the small basket they have reserved for sweets, which is permanently empty if you live with Hanamaki Takahiro. “Not really in the mood for anything sweet right now, though. I’ll get back to it later.”

“Rude,” Hanamaki remarks as he plops down onto the spot Matsukawa had sat in until right now. “So you’re not in the mood for me either?” He glances up just to waggle his eyebrows and wink at Matsukawa.

Their banter is light-hearted as it always had been. Nothing had really changed between them when they’d started to date; they’d just slipped into their perspective roles as if it was always meant to be like that. So the addressed just snorts and winks right back. “Always, babe.”

“But honestly,” the pink-haired enigma on his couch interjects, “you should eat a little more. Even if it’s just junk food. Or, y’know, my concoctions, which are decent half of the time. I really dunno why Tooru and Hajime don’t show up anymore when I invite them over for dinner.”

If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve guessed that Makki was worried about his well-being. Instead he just snorts again and unlocks his own phone, scrolling through to find twitter. “Maybe because you microwave literally everything? Any anyhow, I’m still better than you, living off of flowers for the past few months.”

“Damn right, that’s the shit. Fucking food of the gods. What’d they call it, nectar?” He slouches down on couch to occupy the rest of it, effectively spreading all across the cushion so Matsukawa has no place to sit down anymore.

So he does as any sane person would and just plops down onto Makki’s legs. The latter hisses in pain and immediately retracts them, massaging his shins and sending him affronted glances over the edge of his phone. When that doesn’t elicit the apology he’s so obviously waiting for, he stretches them once again and drapes his spindly legs over Mattsun’s lap, curling his toes inwards.

They fall back into amiable silence and all he can hear is Makki tapping on the screen of his phone and the occasional annoyed sigh. “Did you know,” the strawberry-blond breaks through the silence once again, “that the Perseids are supposed to be perfectly visible today?”

Matsukawa decides to humour him. “Is that like a band? Do you wanna go to a concert? Is that it? If so, I’d have called up Satori and Eita to get us some tickets.”

Hanamaki nudges him with his toes and rolls his eyes. “No, you big fungus. It’s a meteor shower, but you already knew that, didn’t you?”

He just finger-guns him and waits for Makki to continue.

“So do you maybe want to, like, I dunno… skip any chores and responsibilities we might have tomorrow and just stay up on the roof and share profound secrets with each another while also declaring our immortal love for one another?”

Matsukawa raises one singular black eyebrow. “You’re on.”

Hanamaki grins at him as if he’d just promised him the world – which maybe he’d done. It certainly had been a while since they had done something like this together. Maybe Oikawa and Iwaizumi and their boringness had rubbed off on them.

“That’s neat,” Hanamaki says in the most enthusiastic voice he can muster, which means it sounds sleepy and bored, “I’ll go prepare, like, a picnic-basket or something.” And with that he’s gone, before Matsukawa can even protest, off to the kitchen to show exactly how much of an adult he had become. It was endearing, to say the least.

And thus he only had to dawdle away the time until sunset.

Which turned out to be longer than he’d first anticipated. But then again, what had he expected during mid-August?

When both of them emerge on the dark roof of their apartment building the concrete is still warm after hours upon hours shining down on it, and a warm breeze smelling faintly of pine-needles and sea-salt wafts around them, accompanied by the laughter and chattering of people enjoying their time together and making the best out of the current heatwave.

Hanamaki lays out the picnic rug on the ground and puts the cute little basket – a birthday gift from his mother – on it, next to the bouquet of flowers and the carafe of some kind of lemonade Matsukawa had already deposited on it. He crosses his arms and lets his scrutinizing gaze roam over the ensemble. “D’you reckon we should light a candle or is the risk of forest fires, like, too high right now?”

Matsukawa shrugs. “I mean, we don’t live near any forests, but I don’t wanna risk it either.”

“Guess our phones will provide the mood-lighting then.”

He nudges Hanamaki with his shoulder, just a light touch, but the other almost keels over. They both pretend to ignore it. “That’s so romantic.”

The strawberry-blond just groans and swats him away. “Shut up and sit down, I didn’t prepare all this shit for nothing.”

Instead of waiting for him to lower himself on the blanket, he grabs Matsukawa’s hand and drags him down onto it, the contents of the carafe dangerously close to splashing over after Matsukawa’s hand brushes against it ever so slightly.

“So I packed sandwiches but I don’t know if we wanna eat them in this heat, but I also got a watermelon and, like, peaches and stuff, and do you remember the movie where the main character like totally fucked an apricot? Was that fucked up or what?” Hanamaki happily babbles on as he strategically deposits each and every item they’d brought with them on the ground. The different kinds of fruit are cut up and each tightly sealed in a plastic container, closely followed by an array of vegetables and sweets, including the _Ferrero Rocher_ from before.

Why Hanamaki so adamantly tried to feed him those pralines was quite a mystery to him – he didn’t even like them that much.

But both the food and his thoughts are abandoned as soon as the first few shooting stars hesitantly show themselves in the starry night sky, dashing across it as if painting a picture with glow sticks. The warm night air surrounding them feels so much lighter than it had felt that afternoon; instead of suffocating him, it now felt purifying, filling his lungs with the strong scent of freshly cut grass. Laughing like children, they each point out their favourite constellations ( _and renaming them_ ) and the occasional meteor, which doesn’t do much considering how fast they’re gone again.

With each falling star that passes them, they mutter something to one another; a wish, a hope, a snarky remark, a pun.

But Matsukawa’s eyes more often stray to Hanamaki’s silhouette than not, only slightly illuminated by the almost full moon. He can faintly make out his soft laughs whenever Matsukawa mutters something exceptionally funny to him or the quiet crunching and rustling of the crisps bag when he reaches for the snack instead of actually eating the fruit and vegetables that he had prepared like a responsible adult.

He gets so lost in staring at the man beside him that he doesn’t quite notice when his eyes start to droop and his chin meets his chest, effectively waking him up once again. Hanamaki – probably – shoots him a funny look and raises an eyebrow. He doesn’t need to be able to see him in order to know that. So he just shrugs.

“You tired?” Takahiro asks, and his hand finds Issei’s own in the darkness, carefully interlocking their fingers and rubbing his thumb over the back of his hand. “Do you wanna lay down? I’ll wake you when the show really starts.”

Matsukawa is too tired to protest, so he accepts defeat and rests his head in Hanamaki’s lap, who’s now combing his slender, calloused fingers through his hair. Matsukawa winces now and then when they get stuck in a particularly entangled curl but it’s soothing nonetheless, and thus he falls fast asleep soon enough.

When Hanamaki’s sure that Matsukawa really is asleep, he slightly leans forward over his limp body to snatch the _Ferrero Rocher_ and unwrap it, holding it between his thumb and forefinger in front of the moon and turning it slightly, carefully scrutinizing where the two chocolate halves have been stuck together.

He sighs and shakes his head in disbelief; who’d have believed that the only reason his plan had failed was because of Matsukawa’s reluctance to play his part by disliking the treat?

Hanamaki had figured out what they’d been missing quite a while ago; well, they didn’t really _miss_ anything per se, but he’d figured out something after all. Namely, that he wanted to spend the rest of his lifetime with Matsukawa, which was kind of sappy, now that he thought about it that way. But thus this plan had been born.

“Kinda pathetic, isn’t it?” He whispers to the unconscious form of his boyfriend, smirking to himself in the darkness. “Never thought I’d be the one for this kind of shenanigans.”

When Matsukawa doesn’t reply – obviously – he continues.

“So what do you reckon, how many stars are there in outer space? One for each of us?” The silence stretches out between them like chewing gum, filling every crevice and crack that it can find and making him feel sticky and warm.

“But you know what’s even more pathetic?” He jabs his finger lightly, as to not wake the other, into Matsukawa’s chest, to underline his point. “You falling asleep before you even get the chance to _try_ this _Rocher._ Honestly, I prepared it with so much love.”

He draws his eyebrows together and frowns at the black-haired man. “After I went through the trouble of filling the goddamn thing with wasabi and hot sauce and burying a godforsaken ring in there.” 

**Author's Note:**

> 'live on coffee and flowers'
> 
> I dont know why hanamaki sounds like dave strider here rip


End file.
